Dreams

I dreamed that I was working in some kind of facility that closely resembled a school. I don’t know what kind of work I was doing, but it seemed like teaching...or perhaps even administration... At any rate, I spent a great deal of time walking the halls of a place that looked vaguely like my middle school. The one thing I know is that I was completely alone. I was surrounded by co-workers, but there were no kindred spirits among them. My closest friends were scattered at various points around the globe, and I have no earthly idea what had become of my family. I remember an altercation with three young Hispanic girls who utterly despised me and refused to obey rules. I could feel their hatred. I felt as though I were a stranger in a formerly familiar land. The next thing I remember is walking home across rocky, dry terrain. My surroundings looked like the vibrant deserts and canyons of the west, but yet I was still in Georgia. I danced along the worn dirt path, trying to avoid the rattlesnakes and cacti. A man in an old beat up Ford slowed and drove along beside me. Whenever I grew tired, he called to me encouragingly. I’m not sure why, but in order to make it home, I had to keep dancing. I was dancing wildly to the calls of the man in the baby blue truck. He had a gruff voice and manner and a large, powerful frame. He seemed like someone accustomed to hard labor and alternately reminded of chain gangs and oil rigs. When I arrived home, I expected the man to go on his way, but he lingered in the driveway. I ran for the shelter of Johnathan’s grandparent’s house, which turned out to be my grandparent’s house instead. When I entered, I was greeted by the scent of my old home on Timber Lake Drive. Dashing into the utility room, I watched and waited as the door was rattled by thunderous blows.I woke up in my own little house with fresh air and cricket songs filtering through open windows. I heard one of the kids roll over with a sigh and blinked sleepily. I was so tired, and the arms of sleep were still outstretched, but yet I continued to stare into the darkness. There are aspects of dreams that remain vivid long after the dream has passed. There are faces of unknown people that seem as if they will forever be etched in memory. Sometimes I half expect to see them in a crowd.

Weekend update

The day has begun with a mix of gold and still-sleepy shadows. There are still a few crickets in the cool grass, and the world is rubbing its eyes perplexedly. Where did all of these people come from? Vehicles are zooming toward weekend destinations, and I am in disbelief over the number of trucks and SUVs that race by. For every car that passes, five full-size trucks follow. Geese are flying overhead, and I can't help thinking that they have a far superior mode of transport. It's mid-August, but fall has been in the air for more than a week. Even the birds can feel it. The dog days of summer are breaking rules left and right, and I have no complaints.

David's first week of school was quite successful. On the first day, he pointed at his teacher and told her “No” in an authoritative manner. I sighed and began to worry. Despite repeated speeches and various reprimands concerning the appropriate way to speak to adults, David persisted with rude comments and official tones. In fact, it seemed as though he were becoming worse. I had horrible visions of my son being labeled a behavioral problem before entering kindergarten. On the second day, however, his attitude had dissipated. The next three days presented a noticeably changed David. He cheerfully met me at the door and began recounting the events of the day. David informed me that the other children were mad because he cried at nap time, and I couldn't help laughing at this admission. He proudly showed me a scraped knee and told us the names of his teachers. He is already speaking in more complete phrases and has been much more cooperative in general. In ways, it is frustrating to feel that our efforts at home were not enough. It was apparent that David was missing something in his little life, and it appeared to be something that we weren't giving him. In all honesty, I think that he had become too big for his world. He is a very bright kid and has already mastered reading and writing. No doubt, he was bored out of his mind in his everyday environment. He was simply ready to move on and ready for the companionship that baby sisters can't provide. I'm not foolish enough to think that all problems stop here. We will certainly continue to have bad days...angry days, but things have been undeniably better. It's a change that can be sensed as well as seen, and I feel as though someone has opened a closed door. I still work the same number of hours and come home to the same household, but something has changed...if only for a time. I have been very proud of my boy. He's a good kid.

Emily has learned that kisses are like rewards. She seems to think that her kisses are golden and bestows them whenever someone does her bidding. She'll kiss my leg or cheek and nod gravely as if to say, “Good job, Mommy. You finally got it right.” She's headstrong and frustrating by spells, but ridiculously sweet in between times. Her new words are “no”, “nose”, and “ow”, and I'm pretty sure she's trying to say “more.” She's already saying, “Ma, Da, duck, dog, ball, bowl, and uh-oh” and frequently attempts “David, brother, and cup.” She gets very excited over small things and laughs a great deal.

David and I are drawing clowns together as I type this. It's shaping up to be such a nice day that I think we'll spend some time on the playground.

Pre-K

David's First Day of Pre-K!

"David, can you smile for me?" The above was David's facial response. He seemed to feel that this school excitement business was just a bit over the top.

The nature edition

Since we finally have a house with a yard, we decided to begin a compost heap at the edge of the trees. We knew that something had been eating our scraps and weren't entirely sure we wanted to continue feeding whatever animal was making a meal out of our leftovers. I didn't like the idea of inviting a mangy dog into the yard where my children play. My fears were squashed, however, when I woke up early one morning to find four gigantic crows huddled around the heap. They were picking at the food with great enthusiasm, and I was impressed by their enormous size. They certainly appeared much larger than your garden variety crow, and I began to quote Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven" in my head.

"Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'"

After a little bit of investigation, I found that while crows are more common, ravens can also be found in Georgia and are about one-third larger. I watched as they flew away with their ebony feathers almost blue in the morning sunlight. I have seen nothing more than blackbirds and crows since that moment, but I'm keeping my eyes open in hopes that the ravens will return.


The kids and I went for a Thursday night ride after a quick trip to Publix for baking powder. Emily has been strongly resisting sleep lately, and David continues to strongly resist meal times. As a result, my house has been a nightly den of screams and protests. It begins with David's "I don't want supper" at 6:45 and stretches through until Emily finally gives up her struggle somewhere around 11:30. As a result, Johnathan and I have been extremely irritable, and by Thursday night, I was nearing meltdown proportions. When the kids were quiet and content in the car, I found that I simply couldn't return home to madness. I rode away from our house and through Silver City, enjoying the cool night air and savoring the sound of silence. As I cut onto the go-nowhere road behind my aunt's house, two pairs of glowing eyes bobbed out in front of my car. I slowed to a crawl and stared at the two young raccoons that appeared in the flood of my headlights. When I stopped, they stopped. They stood up on their little legs and stared into the blinding brightness. I'm pretty sure they were too blinded to make out anything, but they cocked their cute heads and pawed at the air in a vain attempt. When I crept forward again, they hesitantly scampered back into the grass at the side of the road. Raccoons are notoriously curious, and it was amazing to see that inquisitive personality shining through at such a moment.

The family had an exciting adventure at Poole's Mill last weekend, and I was the only member who didn't slip on the slick rocks. Johnathan and David had wet backsides, and poor Emily wiped out entirely in a moment of over-confidence.

We spend so much time pushing nature out of our way, but there are moments where it stretches out a friendly hand and invites us back into the fold.